


Valonqar

by Violetrayofsunshine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Badass Arya, Brienne is the Best, D&D can suck my dick, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this before the episode aired because I knew it was going to suck and I was CORRECT, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Jaime Loves Brienne, Sandor is sick of this shit, That ending was terrible and stupid so this is what really happened, Tyrion is the best little brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 06:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18823465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetrayofsunshine/pseuds/Violetrayofsunshine
Summary: Fix-it fic for season 8 episode 5: a.k.a. the ending we should have gotten.After leaving Winterfell, Jaime's determined to kill Cersei or die trying. Brienne takes issue with that. Featuring supportive Tyrion, grumpy Sandor, and Arya being a badass (as usual).





	1. Chapter 1

 

Jaime Lannister was pretty sure this plan was terrible, but he’d already committed to it. Everyone in the city knew he was, so none of the guards had stopped him on his way inside the castle. He was standing in front of the giant doors now, hyper aware of the fact that his sister was just on the other side of them, and he was going to kill her. Sandor Clegane and Arya Stark were hidden in the shadows just outside the throne room, awaiting his signal.

 

He’d known there was no way Cersei would leave herself unprotected. Jaime had expected more soldiers to be here, but perhaps she didn’t trust anyone else; her brother was the Kingslayer, after all. Gregor Clegane and Euron Greyjoy stood on either side of the throne where his twin sat, straight backed and intimidating. Unbidden, his mind suddenly dredged up images of Aerys as he’d sat upon the same throne so many years ago. The two looked more similar than Jaime ever could have imagined. With a deep breath, he approached her.

 

“I thought I told you that if you left, I would have you executed,” Cersei said coldly.

 

“You did, your Grace,” he replied, his head bowed.

 

“When have I ever been prone to making empty threats?” she asked.

 

‘ _Plenty of empty promises, though_ ,’ Jaime thought privately.

 

“Never, your Grace.”

 

“Yet here you are. Do you have a death wish, dear brother?”

 

“I…never wanted to leave you. I left to defend you from the threat of the undead army, and returned once it was defeated.”

 

“Yes, you fought the undead alongside the traitorous army that is now laying siege to my city. You disobeyed my orders. How could I possibly trust you again?” she demanded. Jaime swallowed, hating himself even more for what he was about to say, and felt glad that Brienne wasn’t there to hear him.

 

“Because we are the same. We came into this world together, and we will leave it together. You are my other half, Cersei.”

 

She stood abruptly and came down the steps, her gaze never leaving his face.

 

“Come closer,” she commanded.

 

Jaime did as he was told, dropping to one knee at her feet. She cupped the side of his face with a delicate hand, a calculating expression on her face. He never knew whether or not she had forgiven him, or if she would have had him killed by the Mountain like so many others. In one fluid movement, lightning fast, he drew his sword and thrust it upward into her chest.

 

She screamed, and Euron let out a roar of outrage. He and the Mountain both drew their weapons and came at him, but Jaime rolled out of the way.

 

“Now!” he bellowed, and the Hound rushed into the room, followed by Arya. Neither of his attackers seemed to care about the newcomers, focused solely on the one who had stabbed their queen. He dodged a huge swing from the Mountain and caught Euron’s sword in his golden hand.

 

The Hound ran toward his brother while Arya went to Jaime’s aid in fighting Euron. The few soldiers in the nearby halls must have heard the commotion and come to defend their queen, unaware it was too late. Undeterred, they joined Euron so that he was no longer outnumbered. He was a better swordsman than Jaime had given him credit for in the past.

 

Not for the first time, he lamented the loss of his right hand; if he’d still had that, this fight would have already been over. He repeatedly blocked the man’s blows with Widow’s Wail and with his prosthetic hand. Suddenly Euron feinted left, and when Jaime brought up his sword arm, the other man swung at his right arm. The blade connected and cut bone deep, severing nerves and blood vessels. Jaime let out a yell of pain and stumbled backwards. Euron didn’t let up, aiming at his damaged arm again, this time going for his wrist. The cords tying it to his stump were severed and the golden hand fell to the ground with a thud. Jaime swung his blade but Euron parried it easily. He was going in for the kill.

 

Jaime was struck with a reckless idea. When Euron brought his sword down in an attempt to behead him, Jaime dived forward, shoving his entire body weight into Euron’s legs and knocking him to the ground. It was such a stupid move that he’d caught the sailor by surprise. Dropping Widow’s Wail, he picked up the golden hand in his left and smashed it into Euron’s skull with all his might.

 

He tried to fight back, but he was too dazed to lift his weapon, and Jaime brained him with it a second time. Over and over he hit him with it until Euron’s face was a bloody mess and he no longer moved. It certainly wasn’t the most dignified fight he’d ever won, but Jaime found he couldn’t care less.

 

He started to get up when he felt someone grab his left arm and wrench it backwards. There was a sickening snap and he saw stars. Jaime tried to scramble away, but the Mountain had apparently defeated his younger brother and was now trying to kill the Kingslayer. He picked him up by the throat and tossed him sideways as though he weighed no more than a rag doll. Jaime’s side burned from the impact, and he felt his head crack against the stone as his vision whited out for a moment. Certain this was it, he was shocked by the tiny dark blur that shot in front of him and headed for the Mountain.

 

‘ _Arya_ ,’ he thought dumbly. She must have taken care of the other soldiers in the room while he and the Hound had been distracted. She was unbelievably fast, outmaneuvering the Mountain as much as anyone had since Oberyn Martell. Jaime prayed this fight wouldn’t end the same way. He tried to get up and walk forward again, needing to help the Stark girl against the abomination his sister and Qyburn had created. Suddenly there was a hand on his ankle.

 

Looking down, Jaime saw that Cersei had crawled toward him from where he’d stabbed her. The front of her black dress was coated in blood. He couldn't believe she was still alive.

 

“Why?” she whispered to him. “Was I not enough for you?”

 

Jaime found he had no idea what to say. There were so many reasons: Brienne, his children he’d never been allowed near, his sister’s increasing bloodlust and insanity, her broken oaths, the way she and Tywin had treated Tyrion, the fact that she’d never truly loved him, the way she’d done to the Sept of Baelor the same thing he’d tried so hard to prevent Aerys from doing…Jaime didn’t know how to put it all into words.

 

“Tell me, brother, who seduced you? Was it the dragon bitch? The little dove?” she rasped, hatred burning in her eyes.

 

“Brienne of Tarth,” he said, surprising himself by saying it aloud. His sister’s eyes widened. Then she began to laugh, a pained and horrid sound coming from her lips.

 

“Brienne the Beauty. Of course,” she muttered, spitting blood onto the floor and continuing to laugh. Then she pulled on his ankle again, threatening to bring him down again. She took a dagger from inside the folds of her dress and brandished it at him, crazed.

 

“We leave this world together, Jaime! Remember? We are one!”

 

“I’m sorry, Cersei. Please, just stop,” he begged, pushing her away. He backed up, watching Arya’s fight with the Mountain in the corner of his eye. His sister then began to scream: high pitched and terrible, utterly mad. Jaime felt something inside him shatter at the sound. He fell to his knees and cupped the side of her chin in one hand, desperately wishing it didn’t have to be like this. Gradually, her screaming turned to whimpering, blood pouring from her mouth now. She looked up at him, a mix of emotions on her face.

 

“ _Valonqar_ ,” she hissed, and closed her eyes. He lay her back down on the stone gently, and turned around to see the Mountain lifting Arya by the throat. She’d wounded him; his armor marred with cuts and slices, his chest oozing blood, but it wasn’t enough. Behind the Mountain, movement caught Jaime’s eye. The Hound apparently wasn’t ready to die yet. He rose to his feet slowly, and gripped his sword with two hands. Seemingly with all of his strength, he shoved the blade forward straight through the Mountain’s heart. The gigantic man froze, dropping the girl, and stood there. Jaime stared with bated breath while Arya gasped and clutched at her throat.

 

“Well? Hurry up and die, you fucker!” the Hound yelled angrily and kicked him in the back of the knees so that he fell forward and pushed the blade in deeper. He didn’t get up again. The Mountain had been toppled.

 

The adrenaline was leaving his system and Jaime was starting to feel the blood loss. He collapsed to the ground, and this time he didn’t think he could get up again. Arya rushed to the Hound’s side, gingerly helping him to the ground.

 

“That was my kill, you know. He was on the list,” she muttered. The Hound spat on the floor.

 

“Yeah well, you can just kill me then and scratch another name off the damn thing.”

 

“Maybe later. Wouldn’t feel like a challenge if I did it now,” Arya replied. Jaime really didn’t understand their relationship, but he wasn’t going to judge. He and Brienne didn’t make a lot of sense, either. His heart suddenly clenched at the thought of her.

 

After Arya had tied up the Hound’s injuries, she made her way over to Jaime.

 

“You took one of my kills, too,” she accused.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think there are probably a lot of people who feel the same way,” Jaime said. “You can kill me instead, if you want. For your brother, and your father.”

 

“You’re not on my list,” she said simply.

 

“Well, if you change your mind, just do me a favor. Tell Brienne I love her, and I’m sorry,” he said.

 

Arya’s brows creased in confusion, but Jaime couldn’t tell her anything more. His head spun and the world went black.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When he woke up, Jaime had no idea where he was; the memories of his last fight were jumbled and hazy. He lay on a straw mattress, with white linens drawn up to his chest. Turning to the left, he could see rows of similar beds lining the wall, each occupied by a wounded soldier. Jaime attempted to sit up, realizing what a mistake this was as his cracked ribs protested.

 

Now that he was conscious, his other injuries made themselves known. He was pretty sure he had a concussion, and could feel bruises developing all over. His left arm was in a sling and heavily bandaged: probably broken, then.

 

Jaime found himself dreading looking to the right. While he couldn’t recall most of the battle, there was no way he could forget Euron Greyjoy hacking at his already maimed right arm. He could feel the sleeve of his shirt drape across the sheets, with no limb to fill it. He flexed the forearm and elbow that he hoped would still be there, and nothing happened. Bracing himself, Jaime forced his head to turn to the right and examine the damage. What he didn’t expect to see was Brienne of Tarth asleep at his bedside; yet there she was, in full armor. She was perched upon a rickety stool, her back leaning against the wall and her neck falling to one shoulder. The angle looked terribly uncomfortable.

 

“She’s been there all day and night, you know,” came a familiar voice suddenly. Jaime’s heart filled with relief to see his baby brother walking toward his bed, looking a little worse for wear but _safe_ and _alive_.

 

“I’m guessing we won, since the city isn’t burning to ashes with wildfire and the three of us are still breathing,” Jaime said. Tyrion nodded.

 

“The cost was high. There were many casualties, and much of the city was reduced to rubble. But our sweet sister is gone and the fires put out.”

 

“Looks like we’ll have to pay up. Bronn the Blackwater will be Bronn of Highgarden, assuming he survived,” Jaime said with a wry smile.

 

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” Tyrion said, rolling his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like shit, mostly,” Jaime replied. Tyrion followed his gaze to his empty sleeve.

 

“I’m sorry. They couldn’t save the arm; it was too badly damaged,” he said somberly.

 

“I suppose I should be grateful it was the arm that was already fucked. I’ve still got the one hand, at least,” Jaime said with a grimace. He suddenly wanted to talk about something else - _anything_ else.

 

“Why did you come back without young Pod or Ser Brienne?” Tyrion asked.

 

 _‘Anything else but that_ ,’ Jaime thought bitterly to himself.

 

“Because I’m a selfish person. I wanted them to be safe and far away from here,” he answered bluntly.

 

“I thought as much, but you ought to have known they’d take issue with that,” Tyrion chided.

 

“You’re probably right…wait, what? Is Podrick here too? Is he alright?”

 

“He’s Ser Brienne’s squire; he would never let her come alone. Last I saw he was helping some men clear the corpses from the streets,” Tyrion said. Jaime let out another sigh of relief.

 

“Lady Sansa sent a raven to tell me that she and Pod had left only a day or two after you did. Brienne was reluctant to leave the girl unprotected, but they were both worried for Arya Stark. I’m sure Sansa was aware of Brienne’s concern for _your_ safety, as well,” he continued.

 

“They should have stayed in Winterfell. It’s a miracle they survived,” Jaime said tersely.

 

“…says the man who took off by himself in the middle of the night to ride from there to Kings’ Landing,” Tyrion said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“There was no other choice. I had the best chance of anyone to get to Cersei,” he argued.

 

“Oh, of course,” Tyrion said sarcastically. “You know, dear brother, your recklessness over the years has aged me considerably.” Now it was Jaime’s turn to roll his eyes.

 

“You’re the one who got himself captured by Lysa Arryn, publicly threatened the queen and demanded a trial by combat, _took a blade to the face in battle_ , and a hundred other things, but do go on about how _I_ have caused _you_ stress,” he said accusatorily. His brother only grinned.

 

“Well, I’ve got to be off for now. Lots of things to oversee and deal with, now that the fighting’s over. I’ll be back later and bring you something to eat. Get some rest,” Tyrion said, gripping his shoulder reassuringly.

 

Now that he was alone, Jaime had time to think about what he would say to Brienne when she awoke. The idea of it was making him nervous, which seemed absurd since he’d just survived a fight with the Mountain of all people. Yet, he feared death far less than what Brienne might say to him.

 

As though she could hear his thoughts, her eyes suddenly fluttered open. She rolled her neck and stretched her arms.

 

“You shouldn’t sleep like that, you know, it’s not good for you,” he said. Brienne startled, not realizing he’d been looking at her.

 

“Ser Jaime. I’m glad to see you awake,” she said stiffly.

 

“Ser Brienne. I’m glad to see you _alive_ ,” he replied.

 

“The fighting was well underway by the time Podrick and I arrived,” she said, addressing his knees rather than his face. “Lady Arya told me how the three of you…took the throne.”

 

‘ _She didn’t say “killed your sister,” though_ ,’ Jaime thought.

 

“What else did Lady Arya tell you?” he asked.

 

“She suggested that you and I should talk,” Brienne said cryptically. Jaime snorted, then winced when the movement jostled his ribs.

“Are you alright, ser? Do you need any milk of the poppy?”

 

“No, I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not fine, you’re injured.”

 

“Well, certainly, but at least I haven’t got my severed arm hanging around my neck this time,” Jaime joked darkly. Brienne pulled a face, then looked down at her own feet.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

 

“Brienne, it’s not your fault. I went into that throne room knowing I would probably die, and it would have been worth it if I had,” Jaime said earnestly.

 

“Not to me,” she whispered.

 

“It would have been penance, for all the things I’ve done.”

 

“You’ve already made up for those things. When will you forgive yourself?” she asked.

 

“I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Jaime said bitterly.

 

“Is that why you left me?” 

 

“You deserve someone whose honor is equal to yours. I am old and crippled, Brienne, and you deserve someone young and whole, and… _good_ ,” he said.

 

“Ser Jaime, you do yourself a disservice. You’ve done bad things in the past, but they do not make you a bad person,” she insisted.

 

“I am no better than my sister. We have always been the same,” he said flatly. She’d heard him say such things before, and thought they sounded rehearsed, like he was parroting someone. It didn’t take a genius to guess who _that_ could have been.

 

“Did you decide that, or did she?” Brienne retorted. Jaime said nothing and looked away, his jaw clenching.

 

“Jaime, look at me.” He did, surprised by her informal and direct tone. “Did you regret being with me? Is that why you left the way you did?”

 

“No! Seven hells, _no_ ,” he said vehemently. 

 

“You’re doing a pretty piss poor job of showing otherwise,” she spat.

 

“What, did you think I did it for a bet, like the men in Renly’s camp? Do you think me no better than Ronnet Connington?”

 

“I didn’t know what to think! You left our – my – bed in the middle of the night and spoke only of your sister -”

 

“You couldn’t follow me! You had to stay in the North, where you were _safe_ , to protect Sansa, as far away from my sister as possible.”

 

“Shouldn’t that have been my decision?” she asked.

 

“It should have been. It was selfish and wrong of me, but I won’t apologize.”

 

They were at a standoff: Brienne glaring at him with a stare as icy as any Stark’s, and Jaime matching her gaze defiantly.

 

“Alright, look, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. But between your life and your happiness, I chose the only one I could live with. Even if I had died, you could still move on and live. Maybe…go find that bloody wildling and “make babies” on Tarth, or whatever he was going on about…” Jaime found his confidence failing the longer he talked, as Brienne’s stony glare remained unchanged.

 

“What makes you think I would move on from that?” she asked quietly. Jaime didn’t have an answer.

 

“You knighted me. You charged me to be brave, and we fought together to defend the realm of men against the undead. I would not have feared the battle at King’s Landing. I would have been by your side to the very end,” she said.

 

“Don’t you understand? That’s exactly the problem! I’m not worth protecting, not when the cost is your life! Damn it, woman, I _love_ you - it’s not about your skill in battle!” he cried, exasperated. He’d have thrown his hands in the air if he had them.

 

“Why do you always _insist_ that you are worth so little? Why – wait…what did you say?” she asked, sounding both surprised and suspicious. Jaime blanched.

 

“You heard me,” he said softly. Brienne’s expression was unreadable.

 

“Ridiculous, the pair of you,” came a voice suddenly. Arya Stark was standing at the foot of Jaime’s bed, eyeing them both with obvious disdain. The Hound had his arm around her as she helped him down the hall. With his torso wrapped in bandages, he looked even more sour than usual.

 

“Erm, my lady,” Brienne said awkwardly, giving the girl a polite nod.

 

“Quit arguing and just fuck already, will you?” Sandor huffed, rolling his eyes. Arya let out a snort and continued supporting the older man’s weight as they made their way to his bed.

 

They looked back at each other after the interruption. Brienne’s cheeks were flaming and even Jaime’s ears had turned pink.

 

“I knocked him off a cliff, once,” she muttered.

 

“I knocked her brother out a window, once. Life’s funny that way,” Jaime replied.

 

“Why, Jaime?” she asked. They both knew she wasn’t talking about Bran Stark.

 

“Why do I love you? Damned if I know. You’re the bravest, most honorable person I’ve ever met. You defended me when no one else would have. Your eyes are so blue they make the ocean look dull. You make me want to be a better person, and when you look at me I feel like I could be,” he answered. Her eyes grew wide and watery and she looked away, overwhelmed.

 

“Surely it doesn’t come as that much of a surprise?” Jaime said weakly.

 

“Truly?” she asked in an uncharacteristically small voice, as though she still thought he might be making fun of her. It hurt him to know that the fear wasn’t without reason: not only the things he’d said to her before leaving for King’s Landing, but the men who’d treated her like a joke in the past.

 

“Are you just trying to get me to compliment you some more? You could have simply asked,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. Brienne leaned over and pressed her lips against his. It wasn’t the wild and passionate sort of kiss they’d shared in Winterfell, drunk from wine and high off the feeling of narrowly escaping death. This was gentle and sweet, slow and soft.

 

“Much as I’d like to take Clegane’s advice,” Jaime said, once they’d broken apart for air, “I think we might be better off waiting until I’ve got at least one functioning arm.” Brienne laughed, a sincere and proper one, the sort that was loud and not at all feminine and somehow sounded like music to his ears.

 

“That’s probably a good idea. One condition, however,” she said, her face turning serious once more, “If you try a stunt like that again, I’ll -”

 

“Beat me senseless?” he guessed.

 

“Oh, no. That would be easy; predictable. I’ll lock you in a room with Sandor and Arya for a week,” she said with a sly grin and a kiss to his cheek.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling it done for now! I'm thinking of adding an epilogue or something, or maybe an in between chapter from Brienne's perspective, in which we see her when she finds Jaime after the battle and she talks with Arya and Tyrion (I'm all about that good, good h/c trope), if anyone would be interested. 
> 
> I dearly wanted Jaime to be the Valonqar of Maggy the Frog's prophecy, even though they didn't include that part in the show. I don't know how clear it was in the fic, but Brienne was the "younger and more beautiful" one from the other part of the prophecy, "taking all she holds dear" (aka Jaime!). I loved the way that would have subverted expectations: Cersei always thought it would be Daenerys or Margaery, but instead it was "Brienne the Beauty." 
> 
> I jokingly told my friend that no matter how bad my characterization was, it couldn't possibly be as bad as the episode. But please do tell me what you thought - I've never written for this fandom and I haven't written fic in almost a year, so comments and criticism are welcome! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Find me on Tumblr at violetrayofsunshine if you want to chat!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing for the GoT fandom. Comments and suggestions are much appreciated!


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